Stavanger Bay choke this low till the veins start to shiver

 
There was a breath of agitation as the great inky wraith heaved a great sigh. He had done as he was instructed by the pale female; he had allowed the seaweed to stick to his neck and shoulder for longer than the two days she had demanded of him. When she had not returned on the second day, Skellige had found himself in a fury. The word of others was so easily discarded. His own knowledge of healing was thin; having never had to tend to his own wounds, the dark-furred titan was at something of a loss. Without the aid of the woman who had promised to return, he had simply been forced to cope with the seaweed as a part of him. He was not foolish enough to mess with the work she had done.
 
The Cairn male had kept to the bay for most of his healing process. He had not felt the need to risk causing worse damage to his body when he was aiming to take hold of the land and surround himself in followers. And while he would not admit it readily, the silver-ribbed savage was fearful that Ksenia would find him and seek to take advantage of his weak state. The colorless, foul, lying devil of a she-wolf could not have been far from him if she intended to return him home as she suggested.
 
He was no fool, though, and he would bide his time until he was capable of taking what he deserved. Until the gash on his neck had healed, he would remain on the shores of the bay and tend to the waters that lapped lazily there. Even in his condition, he was more than capable of fending for himself.